My Guardian, the Glorious Executioner
by Govnuh
Summary: Erin, an orphan who knows little about her own ancestry, didn't think she had much to live for other than marveling at the brutal, daily executions performed by the renown Executioner of Noxus. When a plan of hers almost goes amiss, an abrupt adoption gradually turns into something more as she learns about the world, her new guardian, and herself.
1. Enter the Executioner of Noxus

The crowd cheered relentlessly. There, at the gate of the arena, stood a trembling man wearing rag clothing. He knew today was his death day.

"Get out there, your crowd's waiting for ya!" the guard said to him, pushing him out and onto the ground. The gate slammed down, sealing off one of his two exits.

He stood up and wiped off his clothes, as if his first problem was dirt. He looked around. Thousands of people stood up or were jumping around, and their noise did not settle. He looked across. A mere hundred yards' length away was an open gate- freedom. Two guards stood next to it, but he knew they would give him no trouble if he got that close. All he had to do was make it there alive. He did not want to give a show, but his crave to be free was much stronger. Without a second thought, he made a dash for the exit.

He was almost winded not even a third of the way there. The crowd "booed." This sent an alarm in his mind. Maybe today was the day they just wanted to see someone run in fear of nothing. Maybe they were going to slam the gate closed right as he got there. He ignored the thoughts and continued running.

He made it to the halfway point. The crowd's "boos" turned to wild cheers again. The man felt a chill rush up his spine. He stopped and caught his breath, and turned around slowly.

There stood his murderer. He was easily six feet tall, give or take a few inches. He wore a metal headband. His hair was dark brown- it was tied in a long ponytail in the back and the top was half as long, and seemed to spike back. His upper torso was clad in metal and had what looked like silk fur from one shoulder to the other. He had a belt and small thigh guards on either side of his legs. His pants were black and skin tight and his boots were high and metallic. They had spikes protruding all the way around near his knees. On his forearms were metal gauntlets with six small spikes on both of them. He also bore metal, spiked armlets. He seemed to be very fond of spikes. His facial hair was peculiar and easily recognizable for anyone who knew of him; a Fu Manchu mustache that begins on the edges of his upper lip. However, perhaps the most intimidating features about him were his piercing eyes and gigantic duel-wield axes. He spun them around at his sides like they were children's toys.

"Had you going there for a bit, didn't I?" he said to the exhausted man, approaching him casually. His voice was rugged, intimidating, and thoroughly resonated within his chest.

The man nearly fell over. "F-f-fuck you, Draven!" he spat, spinning around and resuming his pursuit to freedom.

The executioner's body tingled at the sound of his name. "Now now… that isn't very nice," he said, pulling back his arm. The crowd became even wilder.

The man was so far away it seemed almost impossible to toss anything to him that would actually make it. This was no task for Draven, however. When he finished pulling his arm back, he launched it forward in the man's direction, releasing one of his deadly axes. It spun around in the air seemingly hundreds of times. He didn't throw it up- he threw it forward. It cut through the air in its pursuit of the terrified man as though it was a heat-seeking missile. There was a hush. The blade hit its target in the back of his neck in a matter of seconds.

The crowd picked up its cheers and hollers, and even began chanting his name. Draven's axes acted as boomerangs when they hit their marks, for they were imbued with a potent magic. When his blade struck his prey, it instantly returned to him, and he put the lethal twins in the holsters on his back. He closed his eyes and basked in the chanting. When he was done with his internal gloating, he turned to the crowd and raised his left arm up victoriously. The crowd screamed, and did the same, still chanting his name. It was his favorite sound in the world.


	2. A Hasty Decision

Inside the stadium walls was a girl. She was nineteen years of age. All she knew about herself was her name, Erin. She had short, dark hair, and her bangs were long enough to cover her eyes even though she routinely moved them out of her face.

She sighed. "He's so amazing and just brilliant," she mumbled to herself, "I have to meet him. I just have to."

Every day she would stand in the edges of the stadium to watch Draven perform his executions. She admired him in a way she knew no one else did.

Although Erin was orphaned a few years ago due to her last aging family member dying, she had a very strong mind and heart. She was forced resort to common thievery after all the resources in her home were depleted, not to mention the fact of Noxian authorities seizing and selling the property.

Due to her irrational nature, she hastily devised a half-assed plan of meeting him.

She had never been caught for stealing anything, and she knew theft was one of the easiest crimes to get thrown in jail for. She had to steal something big, and not put up a fuss if she was caught. The perfect victim came to mind. A very wealthy man lived on the edge of her town. He owned several expensive statues that sat all around his house. Stealing one or two would probably make him angry enough to call the police. She smiled evilly and set out to her destination.

Stealing the small ones was an easy task. She even went as far as doing it right in front of the owner's eyes. He was not only rich, but he was buff as well. Instead of calling the police, he apprehended Erin himself and carried her over his shoulder to the prison. The man was well known, so the chief didn't question him when he turned her over. She was thrown into a cell all by herself, since the warden had mercy and knew the men wouldn't control themselves if given a cell with her.

"Alright, I'm in," she thought to herself, "now how should I go about meeting the famous Draven…?" She thought it over. Then she realized- Noxian people are very irritable. If she caused enough outbreaks and fights, they'd get fed up with her and put her out of their misery. "Perfect," she thought, "if I start enough fights and riots they'll get sick of me and just have me tossed out."

Erin didn't even care if she was executed. If she got just one chance to meet him in person, her life would be complete. Indeed- she wanted to see him very much.

The standard, raggy clothing they made her wear was so tasteless. She decided to adjust them a bit. The front bottom part of her shirt was rolled and tucked into her collar like a bikini and she tore her pants into capris. Despite this new look, none of the inmates took a liking to her. For this she was relieved.

When it was lunch time, she immediately jumped on a table and yelled as best she could, "FOOD FIGHT!" No one did anything, that is, until she flung her plate into someone's face. He became enraged, and flipped the table. This started a chain reaction with the other inmates. They not only became wild with throwing food, but they ended up scrapping with each other as well. Erin had sneaked into a corner to marvel at her work.

Some guards rushed to the scene. "Who caused this outrage?" they demanded. Erin stepped forward, "That'd be me, sirs." They looked at her in disbelief. How could a young girl cause this kind of trouble? In fact, why was she even in jail? They didn't ponder on it too long. They took her and threw her back into her cell. "Excellent," she sneered to herself, "if I keep this up, I'll be on Draven Row in no time."

And keep it up she did. The next day during "recess," she went around spreading rumors to inmates about each other. She was keen on picking out the toughest looking guys and tell them things like, "Hey, I heard that guy over there thinks you're a little flower." She didn't have to spread around too long, for a rugged-looking man had confronted someone else and a big riot was started. When the guards came to break it up, she went to them. "Sorry guys, I couldn't help myself." She was thrown back into her cell.

This cycle of events occurred for several days. She would always do something to ignite the anger pent up inside her grisly prison mates, and she would always make sure she took the blame.

One day while lying around in her cell, the warden arrived to her. She knew this had to be it, but she played dumb. "What's up, wardie?" she asked him.

"Very cute," he hissed. "By my own order, you are to be given a chance of freedom… provided our star executioner allows it." He smiled grimly.

She gave the most realistic shocked look she could muster. "But, sir, why?" she pleaded.

"Failure to comply with prison policy and several accounts of eliciting violent riots by other inmates," he told her.

"But it's just a little fun," she said, trying to hold back her giggles.

"Curiosity killed the cat. You, little girl, are one curious cat," he spat. He walked away, and the cell door was shut. She hopped onto her hard bed and lied there the rest of the day. Her heart beat with anticipation. She was finally going to meet whom she most admired. The inmates who overheard the warden felt bad for her, but she didn't fear death one bit. She figured she lived a mediocre to okay life. She saw so many people die by the blade of the great Draven, so what was so bad about it?

Draven, after his daily execution, was immediately informed by the warden that he would be receiving an extra prisoner for his next display.

"Excellent," he told the warden, "more blood for Draven's parched blades."


	3. Kindness or Pity?

The next day Erin was escorted all the way to the stadium. She insisted that she walked herself, that she wasn't a helpless child. The guards thought it ironic given her childlike appearance, but obliged. She thought walking would ease the unrest in her mind.

When they arrived, they positioned her behind the gate to the inner stadium. She looked through the bars and much to her surprise, Draven stood there, in the center of it all.

"Bring out the guilty! Draven wants to see if he can make his way around. If he can, we'll just have to see what happens next!" The crowd cheered as usual.

The gate opened, and Erin was pushed inside. The gate slammed shut behind her, and she stood there, shyly staring at the marvelous figure that was only fifty yards away. When he saw her, he raised an eyebrow and looked around.

"This is some kind of joke!" he yelled out, "I don't take pleasure in killing girls! Especially…" he looked at her for a moment. "…especially short ones," he said under his breath. She couldn't hear him, though she wished she did. She never heard his voice so closely before. She found it alluring.

Erin approached him slowly, with her arms up in front of her. She held loose fists in front of her face to hide her change in color of a bright pink. She thought maybe by now he'd have sliced her to pieces, but he only stood there, watching her approach with intense curiosity. Although no one had arrived to take her away and send in an actual prisoner, he still thought he was being pranked. The crowd had long become silent after Erin's appearance. They too thought it was all pretenses.

Erin finally reached her target. She was now standing directly in front of the man she so desperately wanted to meet. She tilted her head down in respect and closed her eyes tightly. She gulped.

"M-master Draven… it's such an honor… I've always wanted to meet you in person," she coyly managed to say to him. He was more intimidating than she anticipated.

He was completely taken aback. He'd heard his fans chant his name, and gave them the chance to meet him after every execution, but no one ever talked to him about how much they really respect him; only how much they liked watching him kill people. His mind also tingled at the word "master." No one ever called him that either. He liked the sound of it, "Master Draven."

He leaned down to eye level with her and put his hand on the top of her head. Erin gulped again and flinched. He moved her head up so she'd look at him.

"Get out of here kid. This is no place for someone like you," he told her kindly, something she never expected out of Noxus's Glorious Executioner.

This gave her the biggest surprise of her life. Not only did she achieve her life's goal, but she got to live on. To her this meant she'd get to continue watching his executions. She smiled warmly, and fought back the tears forming in her eyes. She sidestepped him, and dashed towards the exit. The crowd became riled up again. They completely expected Draven to finish her off and ignored the short conversation the two had. Draven only watched her run, silently eyeing her physique. He was a man, after all.

She made it to the gate. She stopped and turned around to get one last look at her savior. He smiled at her. She smiled back, and ran out of the arena. She expected the crowd to boo and hiss, but instead they continued cheering and chanting Draven's name. They knew he spared her out of either compassion or pity, but they were sure it was pity. Despite the fact that this mercy would probably mean his perfect execution streak would be ruined, he felt content inside. It was a strange feeling, mercy. He never found it in his vocabulary before; he never even knew it was there.


	4. People's Person

After the rest of his executions were over, Erin decided to stick around. She didn't want to approach him again out of timidity, so she chose to follow him around town discreetly.

When she saw Draven walk out of the arena with a triumphant gait, she marveled at his masculine physique. He hardly broke a sweat during his shows. Erin sighed and began trailing close behind him. She'd hide behind barrels and people tall enough to block his view from her should he decide to turn around. For a moment she wondered where he would be going, but just figured he was walking home. Maybe he didn't live far from the stadium. It made sense. Who _wouldn't_ want to live close to their favorite job? She took the time to admire every aspect of him. During their encounter she saw that he had several markings on his arms and a few on his face. Maybe they were tattoos, or birthmarks. Erin put her imaginary money on them being tattoos.

While following behind him, Erin made a mistake and ducked behind the wrong person. He instantly noticed and turned around. It was a policeman. He recognized the color and style of her clothing and knew she was an inmate. What he didn't know was that she was released and had no other change of clothes.

"Well what do we have here," he said, grabbing her arm. "Alright missy, I doubt they put _you _up for Draven's slaughtering, but I don't know how you managed to get out. It's back to the big house for you." He began dragging her back to the prison.

Erin put up a big fight this time. She kicked around and tried getting a hit on the man. Hardly anyone walking around took notice to the scene. People got arrested every day, so it didn't matter much that a young girl was headed to prison as well. After some violent struggling, she slipped out of his grasp and began running. She didn't bother to notice which direction she ran.

Draven barely noticed the squabble. He had just shrugged and kept walking. Suddenly he felt something collide with him from behind. It barely fazed him, and he turned to see who or what it was. Erin had run into him head first and fell on the ground. The officer easily caught up with her and grabbed her arm again, lifting her up. When she was up, he finally noticed who else stood before him.

"D-Draven! What an honor sir," he said, bowing his head. "What an honor it is for a humble officer like me getting to meet such a celebrity!"

Draven smiled as an idea formed in his head, "How about you let me take that little felon off your hands, yeah?" he said to him nonchalantly.

The officer regained his seriousness, "But sir, this is clearly an escapee. I can't turn her over to anyone," he regretfully replied.

Draven put his arm around the man's shoulder. "Oh my, but wouldn't you want to hand over a prisoner who managed to elude the cruel blades of Draven?" he asked, pointing at her. The officer looked disbelievingly at Draven, but figured he was telling the truth. Draven was notorious not only for his shows, but also for his ego. The puzzled officer knew Draven wouldn't lie about something so reputation-destructive. He reluctantly let go of Erin, and she jumped to Draven's side, loosely holding onto his metal armguards. She thought his ego would burst and he'd tell her not to touch him, but instead he looked down and smiled at her.

"Thank you kind sir, you can be on your way now," he told the dumbstruck policeman, letting go of him and patting his shoulder. He nodded and pivoted around, resuming his patrol.

Erin clenched his armguards, careful not to touch the spikes. "Um, thank you Master Draven," she told him, "but why'd you do that?" She looked up at him with her head down.

He laughed. "You did escape the great Draven, didn't you? Shouldn't you get to stay out of the big house?" he said to her, patting her head.

She squeaked. She was more obsessed with the fact he was still around, still talking to her- _her_. "Well, thank you again anyway."

"And what's up with the clothes? Shouldn't you have gone home and changed out of those rags for something more tasteful by now?" he asked her half curiously.

She bit her tongue. "No sir," she began, "I don't have a home. My grandmother died several years ago and some government dogs took my house. There's nowhere for me to go." For the first time in a long time she started feeling sorry for herself.

Draven felt sorry, too. He also felt empathy for her. He and his older brother were orphans as well, having to fend for themselves at young ages. He may have had an over-sized ego and a thrill to kill, but it didn't mean he didn't have a heart. He instantly made up a solution.


	5. New Pet

He held the top of her head and moved it up like he did before. "How's about you come stay with me, kid? I know what it's like to be out in the world alone- well, almost," he said, accounting for his older brother.

Erin's face turned red. Did he really just say that? The renowned executioner of Noxus- adopting someone into his home? She couldn't believe her ears. It had to be a publicity stunt.

"Um, that's um, well I…" she started. She was so timid she couldn't come up with a thought to say.

"Then it's settled!" he said, "You're my new house pet, let's go." He didn't wait for her to object and lifted her up over his shoulder, resuming his walk to his home. Although she didn't fight back, she was startled greatly and gasped when he lifted her up. Erin seemed to have an aura about her that made people want to carry her over their shoulders. She couldn't comprehend what was going on. A few years ago she was an orphan. A few days ago she was a prisoner. Moments ago she was put up on death row. Now, she's going to be living with the man she only ever just wanted to meet. It was all surreal.

While he was walking, Erin couldn't help but cuddle the big, white fur on his shoulder. It was so soft, and smelled lovely to her. She was careful not to let him notice but he noticed anyway.

"I see you like the fur," he told her. She froze and turned pink in embarrassment. "You really are a house pet, aren't you?" He laughed, "Go ahead, play with it all you like; Draven is resistible to none." She giggled and continued to hug the soft fur.

When they arrived at his house he set her down. Erin rubbed her belly. It hurt to be carried like that for too long. She turned around to see where she was. It wasn't at all like she pictured it.

It was a one-story house, oddly enough. It was painted red, and a very definite red, unlike the more dull-red buildings she'd seen elsewhere. She looked around. His house was on top of a hill by itself just outside town. She could see the arena from here, and smiled because she had guessed right.

Draven pulled out a single key, unlocked the two locks, and pushed the door open. He walked in and Erin was behind him, treading slowly and carefully. She was inside Draven's house! She slipped her shoes off by the door and looked around.

They seemed to be in the living room. There was a big, long sofa and a love seat; and a coffee table next to the sofa. There was nothing extravagant, much to her surprise. She thought a man as famous as him would be super rich and own all kinds of things. But no- it was a pretty humble house.

He gave her a nudge forward, "Make yourself at home, kid. Whether you like it or not that's what it's gonna be to you from now on." She didn't know what to say, so she uneasily nodded and sat on the big sofa. Erin subtly felt like she was a prisoner again. He did, after all, bring her here against her will. She didn't mind it much, though. As long as she got to see him and his shows every day she didn't really care.

"Oh no you don't," he said, walking over and grabbing her forearm. "First, we gotta get these rags off you." He led her down the hall to a bedroom. Erin held her breath. What the heck did he have planned? He went into his closet for a minute or two. When he emerged, he was holding a black tank top and pants that looked to be her size.

"I was still pretty tasteful when I was younger, so they'll do for now. Go ahead, try 'em on," he said, handing the clothes to her. She looked at them, then back up to him. "Yes sir," she said politely. She walked to the big bed and tossed the new clothes onto it, pulling her shirt off right afterward.

Draven stood there watching her. He couldn't believe his eyes. She was stripping right in front of him. Did she have no shame at all? As she donned the new shirt, she turned around to look at him. He stood in place still.

He pointed at her, "Don't you uh, know it's dangerous to strip in front of a man?" he asked her.

She tilted her head, confused, "Huh, why?" she asked, "What's so bad about it?"

He shook his head and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. It was true, she had no shame. She grew up with her grandmother who never taught her shame or the dangers of Noxian men because she was always too young. By the time she was old enough to learn shame, her grandmother had already passed away. Although the feeling was a mystery to her, a sense of embarrassment formed inside her when she realized she was topless around a man. Erin finished changing into the pants. The new outfit was kind of a tight fit, but fit nonetheless.

She went and opened the door, only to find Draven standing right there with his back turned. When he heard the door open, he turned around to have a look at her.

He brought his hand down hard to pat her head, "Look at cha! Just like little old Draven used to look like." He ruffled her hair and she only looked down shyly. She enjoyed the thought of looking just like him.

"Now then," he began, placing an arm around her shoulder, "Let's see what we can do about your little habit of getting into trouble. From now on, every day your job is to make sure the place is spotless. Got that?"

Now Erin really felt like she was taken prisoner. Chores were perhaps her least favorite thing in the world to do. However she feared she would upset him by objecting, and he would only find a way to make her do it if she did; so she simply nodded and said, "Yes sir, Master Draven."

A grin grew on his face, "And I like what you have going on there with the master stuff. Keep it up, kid." Erin blushed again and twiddled her fingers.

She looked up at him apprehensively, "Um, so, does this mean I get to come to your executions and watch you do your stuff?" she asked.

Draven let out a big laugh, "Of course not! You are to stay here and do as you are told. We don't want that pretty little head of yours butting into anymore trouble, would we?"

Her heart sank when he said "not." Her favorite thing in the world was to watch him perform, and now, even though she lived with him, she was no longer able to watch.

"But, but," she stammered.

He put his palm over her mouth, "No 'buts'! Draven's the master here, get it?" He looked down at her, grinning. Her eyes looked away as her head stayed down. "Got it," she answered reluctantly.

"Good," he said, leading her to the couch. She hadn't noticed it turned nighttime. The time she spent with him seemed to fly by.

"Bed time, kid," he said, tossing the blanket from behind the couch at her and starting for his room down the hall.

"Erin, sir," she mumbled.

He stopped and turned, "What was that?"

She looked up, but her eyes wouldn't meet his. "Erin, sir," she repeated, "My name."

"Erin eh," he said shrugging, "Could be worse." He disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him.

That night Erin couldn't fall asleep once, not even slightly.

She sighed dreamily, "Draven… I wonder why you chose me."

**Edit: I did not expect reviews already, hah. It took a lot of courage to upload this because it's like the first non-lemon-or-one-shot I've seen with Draven so far. Sorry for the erratic-sized chapters; I'm copying and pasting sections from my Word, aheh. I have a ton more in it, but I'm uploading a bit at a time in case someone wants to see something changed.**

**Kevzho: You're right, he probably wouldn't. He'd have torn her to shreds and asked for the next one. XD But then I'd have nothing to do with my story. :c**

**LolGoau: Thanks. :D**

**Stolenwarpig: Oh stop it you. I don't think I'm too good at details in a story, so says my old English teacher, but thanks. ^-^**


	6. Gone

The next day was the first day of what she assumed would be the rest of her life. She'd wake up, have breakfast, sweep every room that didn't have carpet, and vacuum every one that did. If there were dishes, she would wash them. If the trash was full, she'd take it out, even though she wasn't even allowed to leave the house. She would basically clean anything Draven told her to. While all this would happen, Draven would always be out executing people. There wasn't a day that he took off, since the prisons were always overpopulated with dangerous felons. He didn't mind, though. Deep down he wished he could slaughter every inmate at once in front of his adoring fans. When he would return, he would always be greeted by a "Welcome home, master," by Erin, who quickly memorized the time he would get back. The rest of their schedule consisted of Erin receiving a pat on the head for being good and staying home like a good house pet, as he liked to call her; and they would eat, talk about him and how much more famous he could be, then go to sleep. This routine stayed the same for a whole two months. Gradually Erin became used to being around Draven, and she became less timid when he was around.

It was nighttime on a breezy, calm Saturday. Draven was fast asleep down the hall and Erin was lying on her big couch half awake. Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door.

"Huh?" she wondered tiredly, "Who could that be at this time of night?" She went to the door and unlocked it, carefully opening it.

"Draven's residence," she began, rubbing her eyes to see, "how can I…"

A rag was shoved into her face. Her eyes widened and she panicked. All she saw was several mean-looking men. She only caught a glimpse, because the last thing she remembered was a strong and peculiar odor filling her nostrils, before she fainted. Draven didn't hear a single thing. Not only was he the heaviest sleeper in Noxus, but the incident had happened in a silent flash.

Erin awoke early to what she assumed was morning, dazed. She was sitting on the floor, completely bound by thick ropes. She looked around. She was inside a large, empty room. The only things that occupied space were several rugged men. Erin tried counting them. There were at least ten. When they noticed she was awake, they all grinned and began talking amongst each other.

One of them approached her. He was shirtless, and had red stripped tattoos all over his head, neck, and torso. He grabbed her head and held it up like Draven did to her, only more violently.

"Lookie here, boys, the princess is awake. Enjoy your sleep, dear?" he said looking closely at her, then letting go of her head.

Erin became afraid, and felt terribly lonely. She looked down, "W-what do you want with me?"

The tattooed man spoke again, "It's not you we're after; it's your master we want. Heard around town he had a new pet, so I just had to find out for myself. And whaddaya know, it's true."

Erin got a little irritated. She didn't like being called a pet by anyone other than Draven, but even then it was slightly awkward. "Then what do you want with Draven?" she asked, becoming slightly braver due to her irritation.

"That's for us to know, and for you to sit and look pretty. We left your master a little note. If he values you at all, he'll be here no problem." He knelt down and held her chin, moving her face towards his. "It will be no problem, right cupcake? 'Cause if it is, you just became a loose end."

She jerked away from him, and he chuckled. "Am I important enough to him?" she wondered to herself. Her pessimistic mind got the best of her. She turned away from her captors and lied down on the dusty floor, closing her eyes and trying her best to become comfortable. She silently awaited her fate.


	7. Untimely End

Draven was rudely awoken by his own dream. He dreamt he wasn't skilled enough to execute an ordinary prisoner, and he escaped unharmed.

"Tch, damn," he said to himself, "that was one hell of a nightmare. Good thing that never happens for real." He thought for a moment. "The girl doesn't count," he reassured himself. He stood up and stretched.

"Graaah… speaking of which, I wonder if she beat me this time." Draven always got up before Erin, so he had to wake her up to do her chores every day. He rubbed the back of his head and walked down the hall.

When he reached the living room he came up behind the big couch like he usually did.

"Rise and shine sweetheart, time to get to work," he reached over the couch. His hand came down and touched a cushion. He felt around for a bit but only detected the couch and a lonely blanket.

"Hm, maybe she did win this time. Never thought I'd see the day Draven was done in by a woman."

He wandered around the house. "Hey kid, 'nuff playing around, it's work time!" he called.

He received no answer.

"Hey kiiiiiiid!" he continued. He still got no answer. "Where could that crazy kid be?"

He walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. He heard some crumpling underneath him.

"Hm?" he hummed. He moved to see what he sat on. It was a piece of paper. He thought it was a playful joke Erin was pulling on him- until he read it to himself.

"We have the girl," he began lighthearted. His mood instantly dropped. "If you value her at all you will come to the old empty pub on the other side of town no later than sunset…" There was no signature or name.

Draven grumbled and ripped the note to shreds. He felt angry, but didn't think much of it.

"Looks like Draven's got some pests to exterminate," he said to himself.

The sun was falling below the horizon. Erin was still lying on the floor. Burning tears blinded her vision. She'd do anything to be back with Draven again, even if he made her do every chore all in one go. Still, she patiently awaited her fate.

"Looks like he's not showing, boss," one of the men said to the heavily tattooed man, "I think it's time we, ahem, cut our losses." His voice paused briefly after "cut."

"Guess you're right, Jake," he replied, "time's up sweetheart." he looked down at the silently sobbing Erin, "Big bad Draven's not showing." He pulled out a relatively large dagger and held it to her throat.

She gulped and took a deep breath, "I'm sorry," she thought to herself.


	8. Just in Time

A rhythmic knock at the door caught the attention of everyone.

On what they assumed would be the last knock, the door was slammed across the room. Draven stood in the doorway, his leg extended outward. He held both his axes: one at his side and the other over his shoulder.

The boss slowly and deliberately pulled his dagger away from Erin.

"It isn't polite to steal from a guy you know," Draven's voice rumbled, his eyes scanning the room. His eyes narrowed when he spotted a pitiful, bonded Erin on the floor, and he glared at the man standing next to her.

"So, you finally decide to show, huh?" the man said, holding his free hand on his side.

"A guy's gotta look pretty for a date, doesn't he?" Draven replied.

"I was just about to make sliced bread out of your girl here." He chuckled menacingly.

Draven's anger returned. "You've got until the count of ten to explain yourselves before I turn the lot of you into shredded cheese," Draven retorted confidently.

All the men in the room laughed and began taunting him to each other.

The boss spoke again, "Well, it's not like one of you could take ten of us, but I'll humor you for the sake of it." He began pacing back and forth in front of Erin. "You know all those guys you killed in that cursed arena? The ones with ink that looked just like mine? Yeah, those are all my buddies you never showed mercy to." His head tilted down, and he glared at Draven.

Draven hardly knew what he was talking about. He sucked so much enjoyment out of his fabulous execution displays that he never gets a look at the people he strikes down.

"I don't know _what _you're talking about, but man, are you pathetic," he said to him, now even more confident. "Kidnapping a girl just to get to me? That's pretty low."

The red man laughed again, "You think I care what you think about me? This is coming from a man who came to rescue an insignificant woman!" He slammed his foot down on Erin's shoulder, and she let out a cry of pain. Draven never heard her make this sound before. His blood rose to a boil.

"Rrrraaahh!"

Enraged, he slung his axe he had over his shoulder at the man.

One of his men foresaw Draven's outburst, and leaped in front of his boss. The axe struck him in the chest, and ricocheted back to its owner. He was dead before he hit the floor.

"Screw it, get him boys!" the boss called, running to the opposite side of the room. He had planned to kill Erin if Draven became violent, but in his panic he completely forgot.

Draven was prepared to strike at him again, but the remaining men were obstructing his view and were blocking the path to his target.

"Tch, coward," he mumbled to himself. He made light work of the henchmen. He flung an axe at the nearest man, then the one behind him after he fell, until they were all on the floor dead or gasping their last breaths.

He wiped his brow with his index finger. "Hmph, I don't appreciate people who make Draven sweat." He kicked the nearest corpse for quick revenge.

He turned to leave, and then remembered why he was there in the first place. He turned back around. Erin was still lying on the floor, trembling and terrified of the dead and dying that lied around her.

Draven sighed, and walked over to her. He sliced through her ropes like butter and placed his axes in their holsters on his back. He carefully lifted her up into his arms and left the dark, bloody building.

It was a long walk back to his house. Erin's sanity gradually restored itself, and she managed to speak again.

"I… I'm sorry, Draven," she mumbled. He didn't reply; he only kept walking.

"I'm sorry…" she leaned her head on his chest plate and placed her hand on it. She held her other arm around his body. She felt terrible. She caused him to go through so much trouble only to take her back home.

"It's my entire fault," she thought, "He probably hates me now. I wouldn't blame him if he did…"

When they arrived home, he set her down carefully and opened the door. When Erin walked through, she made her way to the couch so she could sleep away her depressing thoughts and shaken nerves.

"I don't think so," Draven said from behind her, holding her shoulders and directing her away from the couch.

"Huh?" she said aloud. He led her down the hall and into his room.

He walked in front of her and leaned over to see her at eye level.

"We can't have you going missing again now, can we?" he said with a smile, placing his hand on her head and petting her. She blushed and slunk down a bit. "Now go on, get. You're sleeping here from now on." He made a gesture to his bed.

Erin's eyes widened, and she looked up at him, her face still a bright pink.

"Yes, you, now go," he insisted.

"Y-yes sir," she timidly replied, and crawled onto his bed and under the sheets.

She kept quiet as she watched him remove his armor and weapons. She never saw him without them on before. Draven's skin-tight pants were the only remaining article of clothing left on him. He climbed into his bed beside her.

He placed his index finger on her nose. "Don't you be getting into trouble like that anymore, you hear? I've gotten used to free labor!"

Erin giggled and nodded. She thought she should have felt like a slave, but she didn't at all. She loved to do anything she could for him. "Good," he continued, "now sleep, kid."

He turned away and let himself fall asleep, leaving a smitten Erin another sleepless night.


	9. Meet 'n' Greet

"How's about you come with me to work, kid?" Draven asked Erin while she was walking back and forth throughout the house on laundry duty.

She dropped the basket of clean clothes she held and her jaw dropped. "Do you mean it? Do you really mean it? I can come with you this time?" She held her breath, waiting for a response.

"Sure kid," he said, putting an arm around her shoulder, "but you have one responsibility."

Her eyes sparkled. "Anything, Draven, anything."

He poked her nose with his other hand, "Your job is to stay within my sight. On the way there and back, you don't talk to anyone and you don't wander off. If there's a time when I don't know where you are, you're gonna be in a world of trouble. Get it?"

Erin received mixed feelings. She was glad she didn't have to leave his side or his vision, but felt that with all these restrictions he might as well have put a leash on her. She wouldn't speak on it though, because he probably would have.

"Got it," she replied both reluctantly and happily.

"Good," he finished, "let's roll."

The walk to the stadium wasn't far but it felt like it took a while to get there. Erin held onto Draven's arm the entire way. When they were nearing their destination, she decided to speak up.

"Um, Master Draven?" she started nervously.

"Yeah, what's up kid?" he replied, not even looking down at her. He was too busy basking in the looks they were getting from civilians. Little did he know that they weren't just staring at him, they were curiously eyeing the young girl latched onto him.

"I'm not a kid, you know," she continued, "I'm nineteen. You're just…" she was careful with her words, "really tall."

His head swung in her direction, as though he was double-taking. "Really? I didn't think you were fourteen!" he let out a hearty chuckle. "I suppose it does make sense, with a figure like yours. You are pretty short though." He patted her head.

"Figure?" she thought to herself.

When they arrived at the stadium, there were no people. Draven always arrived early so he could think of new ways to start out his displays.

"Right here, half-pint," he told Erin, leading her to a seat in what would soon become the audience. It was a front seat, so that when he so much as glanced, he would see her if she was there. He would notice her right away; he didn't give her his own clothes for nothing. "You sit right here and watch ol' Draven work his magic. I better not see you move from this spot, get it?"

She sat in the spot he appointed and nodded, "Got it."

"Good. It's show time."

It was unlike anything Erin ever experienced. She always watched him from a distance, but now she was a part of the crowd. She felt so privileged that he decided to bring her with him. She was surprised when she noticed that the audience was not only composed of men, but there were many women as well. She peered over the ledge that divided the people and the ground, and noticed it was pretty high- too high. She made sure not to go near the edge.

The crowd roared. She looked down into the arena and saw that a prisoner had been shoved in, as the guards had made custom. He frantically looked around, trying to spot death. While he was looking, he was slowly making his way to the exit.

Erin was scanning the area as well. She was so excited to see how he would open this time.

While the crowd was awaiting a glorious entrance, a hunched-over old man in a hooded cloak snaked in front of Erin. What she thought was supposed to be his back was oddly shaped, as though wooden boards were protruding from it.

"That's one heck of a hunch back," she mumbled to herself.

He stopped and turned towards her. He looked closely at her, but she couldn't see his face, only black.

"My apologies, youngster," he started with a strained, raspy voice, "perhaps I'm in dire need of a makeover."

The old man turned to the arena. He reached down to the bottom of his cloak and quickly stood upright, flinging it off in the process. It fell on Erin, and when she moved it out of the way, she couldn't believe her eyes; it was Draven! He hopped up onto the ledge with ease, and the crowd's restlessness unleashed.

Draven said nothing; he only raised a fist in the air, igniting screams from his onlookers and snatching the attention of the doomed prisoner. Erin's eyes lit up in wonder as Draven leaped off the edge, hurling one of his blades at the terrified man. It struck him before Draven landed. As it whirled back to its master, he landed on the ground hard, facing the opposite direction, and catching the bloodstained blade. The audience seemed to only loudly hum by now as much as it was cheering for the veteran executioner. The only person out of the lot of them that wouldn't cheer was Erin. She could only watch in wonder as Draven tore through his victims. She never watched any of the deaths; she could only keep her eyes on Draven and Draven alone. Every now and then he would glance over in her direction, and grin, continuing his onslaught. The display continued for what seemed like hours. People would come and people would go, but only Erin remained in her spot, her eyes glued to her idol.

After Draven had littered the ground with the last body he was given, he wiped a single drop of sweat from his forehead. He stood his foot on the skull of a corpse and shouted to his audience.

"Who braves an encounter with Draven!?" He laughed loudly for all to hear.

The women shrieked and the men hollered. Erin was confused. She never stuck around during the ends of his shows, so she never knew what happened afterward besides Draven walking home triumphantly. She watched silently and curiously as those who responded to his intimidating question rushed down the steps of the bleachers towards him. Erin assumed this happened all the time, so she patiently listened and watched for Draven to finish meeting and humbling his fans so they could go home.

Several tough-looking men were first in line. They surrounded him and patted his armor as if they were all friends of his. "Draven, my man, you inspire a mouse to fight a panther!" "I'd kill for skills like yours." "How many moves do you actually know?"

Draven only laughed and played along. "Draven does it all… with style."

They all seemed to be having a good time with Draven. Some of them even had him sign their biceps with a permanent marker. Erin giggled at how silly they looked. When they cleared out, a comparatively small wave of beautiful women took their place. Erin's smile diminished.

"Draven, you're so cool!" "Hey Draven, are you, you know, free tonight?" "I wish my husband was as strong and brave as you." They were complimenting him as though their lives depended on it.

"Ladies please, there's enough Draven to go around," he assured them, taking and kissing the backs of their hands. Draven was known by men for his ruthlessness in battle, but known exclusively by women for his uncharacteristic lady-killing skills.

Erin had begun feeling bad- very bad. In fact, she never felt this way before. Seeing Draven acting so "friendly" with these lovely women made her sad and angry at the same time.

"Why those…" she murmured. One of the women took her index finger and slid it across Draven's jaw line.

Erin couldn't stand it anymore. She involuntarily discarded the orders he gave her to stay where he could see her and got up; she ran down the steps toward the exit gate of the stadium as fast as her legs would carry her.

Draven was using his palm to slick back his hair to make sure it was no less than perfect when his eyes had flashed over to Erin's seat. She was gone. The muscles in his palm tensed, and his eyes began scanning the vicinity. Much to her luck, he spotted her as she was making her way to the bottom of the steps.

"Pardon me, ladies," he told the women, slipping out of the adoring mob. He took one of his axes and casually chucked it in Erin's direction. It pierced the ground in front of her and stopped her dead in her tracks. After he'd tossed it, he began walking towards her, with his female fans following right behind.

He approached her, and leaned on his axe that protruded from the ground, crossing his legs with his hand on his hip.

"And just where do you think _you're _going, young lady?" he asked her, almost glaring down at her.

The women all gasped, and begun talking amongst themselves. "Is that Draven's daughter? No, it couldn't be, he isn't married. Is that his girl? Nah, she looks like a kid, she's too young for him."

Neither Draven nor Erin noticed them; they were too fixated on each other and why each had done what they did. She was afraid because he aimed at her, and he was annoyed that she didn't follow his instruction.

"Home," she told him immediately, staring nervously at his grounded axe.

"I specifically told you to stay put, did I not?" He picked up his axe and re-holstered it.

The women decided to approach them, flocking around and behind Draven. "Is this brat giving you trouble, darling?" one of them asked, placing her hand on his shoulder. Another woman made a shooing gesture to Erin. "Go on, get out of here little girl, this is no place for children."

"Dumb old hags… I'm almost twenty…" Erin whispered.

"What was that? Why you disrespectful little…" the woman was cut off.

"NOTHING!" Erin saw the flock as an opportunity to begin running, so she did. She ran straight out of the gate and to Draven's house.

"Hmph, good riddance, now where were we…" The women continued their courting.

Draven kept them at bay with his arms. "Sorry ladies, Draven's making an exit." He slithered out of their grasp once again and took off running after Erin.

"Hmph, he'll be back tomorrow ladies, then we'll get him." They all giggled and left the stadium to go to their own homes.

Although Erin managed to run out of sight, Draven felt he knew exactly where she was going, so he went straight home. Sure enough, she was sitting outside the door, holding her knees up to her chest. She didn't have keys, and she wasn't about to try to break in.

Draven stood there and crossed his arms, looking down at her like a dog that had just torn up the furniture.

"I hope you're prepared to explain yourself," he told her. He was still dumbstruck at the fact that she- that anyone- was able to disobey Draven.

Erin wouldn't be able to stomach telling him the truth. She felt he'd laugh in her face if she said she had feelings for him. She was, after all, only a "pet," just a chore worker.

"I- I got tired. I wanted to come home," she said, holding her legs together and against her chest tightly.

Draven's expression turned more annoyed. "You didn't look very tired running like that."

Now Erin became annoyed. She just wanted to go inside and sleep away her emotional pain. "I… I just wanted to come home. That's it." She bit her lip, hoping he'd buy it.

He didn't respond for a while, and instead stared at the pitiful being in front of him. He sighed and knelt down in front of her, placing a hand on her head.

"Look kid, er, Erin," he began. She looked up at him right away. He never used her name. "I already told you, we can't have you going missing again. Forget already?"

She didn't speak; she only looked into his dim, aqua blue eyes.

"I guess you can't talk anymore, huh?" he smiled and ruffled her hair, intentionally messing it up. "Well don't let it happen again. If you want to come home, just tell me. I'll bring you back, get it?"

Her eyes panned down, "Got it." She forgot all about what happened back at the stadium and a faint smile had formed on her lips.

"Good. It's dinner time!" he laughed again, lifting her up. He unlocked the door and went inside, Erin over shoulder.

"How'd I even get myself into this," she thought to herself, shaking her head and still smiling.


	10. In and Out

A rhythmic knocking sounded at the front door.

Draven was walking down the hall and halted when he heard it. He slapped his palm over his face. "Don't tell me he chose to visit today. Damn, and on the one day I decided to take off."

Erin shifted around on the couch. It was early morning so she didn't plan on getting herself up as usual.

Draven reluctantly marched to the door and opened it.

"Hey, bro," he sighed.

The taller man standing before him pulled him into a headlock. "Ha-hey, Dray-Dray! How's my favorite little brother in the world?" His broad palm nearly enveloped Draven's head, messing his hair up.

"I'm your only brother. And quit calling me that, it ruins the point of my perfect name… and get off me!" Draven grunted, struggling free of his grasp.

"Aw come on, don't be that way little bro. Remember that time you said you loved me and couldn't live without me?" He nudged Draven's arm, grinning.

Draven was thoroughly irritated. Darius had always been a caring older sibling, but sometimes he was just too… obnoxious. Draven even went as far as coming up with "Obnoxian" as his brother's nickname.

"I was ten. I didn't know any better," Draven started, "Now what are you here for this time?"

Darius walked in, examining the room distastefully, "Still got a house unfit for the mighty Draven, huh? I'll never get you."

Draven replied, "My house is my business. Now tell me why you aren't gone yet."

Darius slapped his palm on his brother's shoulder. "I'm here to see if it's true." His eyes caught on the sleeping Erin on the couch. "And what do you know, it is! Aw, my little bro the Casanova. I knew you'd settle down one day! So tell me, how'd you do it? Did you trick her? Or did you maybe use the skills your big bro taught you?" He nudged his arm as he bombarded Draven with questions.

A growl rumbled in Draven's throat, and his face changed to a soft pink. It was the first time he was grateful his brother was colorblind. "That's not my woman. I'm letting her stay here because she doesn't have anywhere else to go. Speaking of which, it's time for you to go." He took his older brother's shoulders and turned him towards the door.

"Ah..hahh…" Erin yawned, slowly sitting upwards, rubbing her eyes. For the first time, something other than Draven caught her attention. Staring at the taller man, she spoke.

"Nn, who is that guy?" she asked pointing at him, still drowsy.

"Yes, don't be rude little brother, introduce us," Darius told Draven, smirking.

Draven sighed. "Erin, this is Darius, my older brother. Darius, that's Erin, my house guest. You can leave now," he continued pushing him to the door. Darius ignored Draven's efforts and turned around, approaching Erin.

He extended his hand, gesturing to help her up. She took his hand and as he helped her stand up, he kissed the back of it. Erin looked at him puzzled and slightly nervous.

An idea forming in Darius's head, he smiled at her. "Well then, Miss Erin, since it's apparent you're free, perhaps you and I could get to know one another some time." He subtly glanced over to his younger brother, giving him a sly grin. Draven didn't notice; he was still fixated on making Darius leave.

Erin was still unsure about him, but she figured since he was her master's brother, he couldn't possibly be all that bad. She smiled back warmly. "Well I guess since you guys are so close I could get to know you."

Draven appeared behind his brother and calmly placed a hand on his shoulder. "I don't appreciate you making moves on my girl, brother dearest." He spoke as though a single wrong word or move would make him consider becoming violent.

Erin's eyes widened. "My girl"? She thought. "Does he actually feel that way…?" She let go of Darius's hand and looked down, twiddling her fingers as the thoughts bounced around in her head.

Darius's grin didn't fade at all, "Oh? I thought you said-"

"I said nothing. Now get, before you get got," Draven interrupted him.

Darius shrugged and turned back to Erin, leaning close to her. He whispered carefully, "He's quite the handful, but I trust you won't break his heart, Miss Erin. You'd be his first love. I'd hate for it to go wrong. I love the guy like a brother, y'know?" He chuckled and patted her head. He turned back around and made his way towards the door, stopping and nodding at Draven on his way out. "I'll be seeing you soon enough, little bro. Take care of each o- ah, yourself." He closed the door behind him when he departed.

Erin sat back down. She was still tired; she could never get used to waking up early no matter how much she did it.

"It's not nice to lie to your brother like that," she started shyly. She concluded he was lying to make Darius leave.

"Hm, what was that, kid?" he replied in a nonchalant tone.

She hummed. "Um, nothing. I'll just start my chores now."

Draven turned and looked at the closed door, staring at it intensely. "Yeah, you do that." His voice quickly trailed off.


	11. Copy Cat

"Hm… he won't be back for a few hours…" Erin mumbled to herself, staring at Draven's closed bedroom door.

Draven had gone to work, and Erin finished her chores early. She rushed through them so she could have time to herself. She planned it for a while but never got the opportunity.

She took a deep breath, lifting and dropping her shoulders. "Okay… do or die." She opened the door and entered. She looked around the room. There was a dresser with a wide mirror- big surprise. She walked over to a closed door and opened it; it was a private bathroom and the tub had a shower head. The mirror over the sink was sparkly clean. She closed it and looked across the room to see a pair of double doors. She grasped her chest and approached it. She took a deep breath, and opened it. What were inside were several black shirts and tank tops, pairs of sweat and skin-tight pants, and socks and boxers. Erin gulped when she looked into a corner and saw spare armor parts identical to the ones that Draven always wore to work.

"There they are," she said to herself. She backed away a bit nervously, and then halted. "No, it really is do or die."

She reached in and picked up the pair of gauntlets. They were heavier than she thought. She shuddered with excitement and strapped them onto her arms, examining them with wonder. Her nervousness disappeared and giddiness replaced it. She made an effort to step into his leg guards. They were too big for her, but she was determined to keep them on. She walked to the mirror and took a rubber band, tying her hair into a ponytail that fell over her left shoulder. She let it grow out for such an occasion. Erin stared into the mirror for a while before shuddering once more excitedly.

"Hehehe, I look just like Draven," she said to herself. She stroked her ponytail, still staring wondrously at the large, spiked gauntlets. Her heart thumped hard in her chest as she heard a "click."

"Can't believe there was hardly any… Erin! What are you doing!?" Draven had entered his room. He ran over to Erin and held her arms away from her body.

Erin instantly became nervous again, and she shivered fearfully. "I- I'm sorry Draven, I…"

"Don't give me that. Take these off right now." He began unstrapping the gauntlets and took them from her. He lifted her legs one by one to remove the leg guards. He carried all four pieces in his arms with ease and tossed them back into the closet, slamming it shut.

Erin looked to the floor shamefully. "I, I only just…" she began.

Draven approached her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Erin gritted her teeth, awaiting her reprimand.

"What did I tell you," Draven started slowly, "about getting in trouble? Look at me." He lifted her chin to look at him.

"Trouble? But, I was just-"

"Just what? What would I do if you got hurt?" Draven interrupted.

Erin blushed lightly. "I just wanted to look like you."

Draven's eyes widened a bit. "Look like me, eh?" he thought to himself. He lifted her ponytail and stroked his chin. "Well, you did get the hair down…" A grin slowly appeared on his face, and he began chuckling. The thought of Erin wanting to look like him was cute and amusing.

Erin was confused. He was laughing, but wasn't he angry with her?

"Well then," he continued, "If you're going to look great like Draven, you're going to have to do it right. Let's go." He opened the closet once more and pulled out the gauntlets he'd tossed in. Taking Erin's hand, he led them out and into town.

The first stop they made was a tailor's.

"Well sew me up and call me Orianna, it's Draven! Oh, Draven and friend I see. What can I do you for?" the flamboyant owner greeted them.

"Well, I, um…" Erin started. Draven decided he'd do the talking.

"My little friend here wants the Draven look." He came in close and whispered to the man. "Nothing heavy or sharp, got that?"

The owner nodded and examined Erin for a moment, stroking his chin. "Got just the thing for you, little girly! Come with me."

He led Erin into a back room. Draven sat in a short chair and read _Axes Monthly _while he waited.

After a while, the two reappeared. "All finished! How d'you like it?" the man said triumphantly, presenting Erin.

She wore a silver leather shawl that exposed her elbows and covered her breasts. She was given another small black tank top that revealed her stomach and black skin-tight pants, but they were a much better fit than what she wore before. Her black, cut off gloves matched those Draven wore to work and instead of metallic leg guards, she was given black legwarmers to wear with simple black shoes. Her other accessories were a thin, tan headband and a red and blue belt with tassels hanging freely on her left and right sides.

Draven grinned again. "Great work, Monty. How much?" he said, grabbing and shaking the tailor's hand.

"For you my friend, only a silver coin. Why don't you let the girl strut her stuff?" he replied, grinning and shaking Draven's hand back.

Draven dropped a silver coin into Monty's hand. "Nice, c'mon Erin, let's go." He took her hand and led her out of the shop.

While Draven enjoyed the attention they received from civilians, Erin admired her new attire. Her excitement and pride were one in the same.

"Hehe, I look just like him now," the thought repeated over and over in her mind.

They walked into a blacksmith's. The owner was a tall, rugged-looking man wearing a black eye patch.

"Well if it isn't Draven," he began, "axes already dull again?"

Draven handed him the gauntlets he'd been carrying. "Hey Mike, think you can make these a bit less… pointy?" he asked the man casually.

"'Less' pointy? That's an odd request from you, but what kind of blacksmith would I be if I couldn't?" He took the gauntlets and sat on a stone bench with a large, stone wheel in front of it. Donning thick gloves and a black protective mask, he activated a mechanism that caused the wheel to begin spinning. After the wheel picked up enough speed, he pressed one gauntlet against it. After countless sparks and several skillful rotations of the gauntlet, he placed it on a table. He repeated the process with the other until it was complete. The new gauntlets were completely smooth and bare of any spikes or sharp ends.

"All done, sir. Will there be anything else today?" the rugged man hummed, removing his gear.

"That'll be it until my blades need a sharpening," Draven laughed. He reached into his pocket and left several silver coins on the table and collected his gauntlets. He brought them to Erin and strapped them onto her arms himself. Erin was surprised. They were slightly lighter than they were before.

"C'mon, we still have one more stop," he said, taking her hand and leading her elsewhere.

The last place they arrived at was a small, colorful building. Wandering around the streets Erin had always noticed it, for she adored colors, but she never approached it. They walked in.

"Draven darling! Here for some new ink?" a pretty, red haired woman greeted him.

"I think we're here for me, ma'am," Erin spoke up.

"Well look whose tongue was spat up by the cat," Draven laughed. He leaned in and whispered something to the woman.

"Oh dear of course! That'll be much easier than yours!" the woman cheered, "Come along little miss." She led Erin to a chair and stepped on a pedal, raising the chair up. She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a jar. Inside the jar was a sort of glowing liquid. She reached in the cabinet again and pulled out a thin paint brush.

"Alright dear, I'm going to need you to hold still for just a moment. It'll feel tingly, but we can't have it in your eyes, okay?" She said, dipping the paint brush into the dim glowing jar.

Erin nodded her head and closed her eyes. The woman steadily applied the liquid onto the left side of Erin's forehead and down to her eye. She continued the straight motion down the side of her face, under her chin and neck, and across her left shoulder. Erin giggled when it began; it really did tingle.

"Voila, she is complete!" the woman said happily. She returned her supplies to their places in the cabinet and shook Draven's hand. "A fine job I'd say myself. Now little miss, if you ever want it gone, you just come give Heather a call, got it?" she smiled at Erin. Erin only nodded back, returning a smile.

Draven handed her a few silver pieces. "Good job," he said to her, saluting her as he and Erin left the shop.

On their walk home Erin couldn't help but marvel at how the liquid had stopped glowing, and wouldn't smear on her hand. She also couldn't help but giggle at every strange look she'd receive from people they walked by. "They're so jealous," she thought. The sun had long begun setting when they returned home.

While Draven was opening the door, she tugged his arm. "Hm?" he hummed.

Erin's head was tilted down to hide her big grin. "Th-thank you Draven." Her attempts to hide her enthusiasm were in vain. She made a squeaky sound and hugged him tightly. Draven smiled and hugged her back.

"No problem. Always be yourself… unless you can be Draven, then always be Draven, that's what I say!" he chuckled. Erin laughed at his joke as well, and they returned inside the small red house.

**-Updates from here on out are gonna be slow, but it doesn't mean they're not gonna come. ^-^ If I ever plan on discontinuing my fic, I'll say so. Hope you guys liked this chapter I actually tried to write~**


	12. Encore

Erin's eyes fluttered as she rose out of her sleep. "Midnight… Not really day yet, but a new day nonetheless," she thought to herself. She rubbed the back of her neck, contemplating the dream she was released from. Glancing over at Draven's sleeping profile, she shook her drowsiness away and stepped onto the floor.

Erin was careful to open the door and exit the room. She walked down the hallway and into the dark living room, flipping a lamp switch. Sitting down on what used to be her bed, she curled into a cozy fetal position and hugged a couch pillow. Closing her eyes, she hummed a melody to herself, and began to sing softly.

"Happy birthday to you… happy birthday to you… happy birthday to Erinnnn… happy birthday to you." She paused for a moment and resumed, "How old are you, how old are you, how old are you, how old are you?" Erin counted on her fingers, then on her toes, and giggled. "Well, that's all of them. I wonder what I'm going to count with next year."

She was going to stand up to return to bed, but when she turned around, Draven was standing in the hallway staring at her. His gaze was deep and almost lifeless.

"Ah, Draven, I wasn't going anywhere, I just…" she began.

Draven shook his head. "Forget about it. Where'd you get those chords?" he asked, sitting down next to her and placing his arm on the top of the couch behind her.

"Chords?" Erin asked, puzzled and shy.

Draven pointed to her neck. "That's a nice voice you got there. Who taught you that?" For once he seemed genuinely interested in something other than himself.

Erin replied, "Oh, that? My grandmother always sang to me. I just remember her songs and sing them to myself sometimes." She felt a little disappointed Draven completely disregarded that it was her birthday, but she was enjoying his attention too much to mind it.

"Hm, I suppose that makes sense," Draven continued. He looked up for a moment, then back at her. "Think you could sing for ol' Draven?" He smiled.

Erin held onto her pillow tightly. "It's not your birthday, is it?" she asked disbelievingly.

Draven laughed, "No, but that sounded great, it probably sounds a lot better with my name!" He patted her head.

Erin would have palmed her face, but she became anxious to sing something for him. "Well, alright then." She took a deep breath and began singing. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Dravennnn, happy birthday to you." She smiled hard into her pillow.

Draven responded after a moment. "I was right. It does sound a lot better with my name, heh. Why'd you come out here just to sing to yourself?" he asked.

"Well," Erin started, "it was all I wanted to do. I was going to go back to bed, but then you came and sat with me. I didn't want to bother your sleeping, that's all."

"Well then, I guess it's bed time then, eh?" Draven said, taking her hand and leading them back to the bedroom.

Erin thought for a moment. "Draven?"

"Yeah?"

"What does it mean when the only kind of dreams someone has are flying dreams?"

"Hmm," he hummed, "not a clue. I bet my know-it-all brother would know, though. C'mon now, Draven needs his beauty sleep." He laughed again.

Erin laughed as well. "Okay okay." She flicked the lamp switch off before leaving the living room and they both returned to bed.

**FreakinAssassin: Shh. You'll spoil the surprise. :3**

**LaInes: Oh my gosh, my heart, it's breaking. I can't believe you do that just for my little story. ;_; Thank you. 3**

**SirLag: Better late than never... They took her as bait. They wouldn't want to do a favor to Draven by returning her if he didn't show, now would they? :P But I understand what you mean.**

**Thanks for all the feedback. Really, if there's anything you guys want to see new or different, just message me and say so. ^-^**


	13. Old Tricks

Erin sighed. "How come I never get to go to work with him anymore?" she asked herself aloud while sweeping the kitchen floor. "It can't be because I ran home…" She scoffed. "He's not THAT paranoid."

Erin mostly spent her days lounging around the house. She'd been around cleaning and tidying so much that her tasks became second nature; and she was able to adequately finish them in no time. She filled her time any way she could. She would go back and clean something she already finished, take a nap, sing songs to herself, draw pictures, and sometimes just marvel at herself in a mirror.

Erin went to the bathroom and turned on the light. She leaned on the counter top, examining her person. "Heh, I may still hardly look like him, but it feels awesome!" she thought to herself, running her fingers through her ponytail. She stared at it as she untangled any knots in it. "I wonder if Draven'll let me play with his hair, too," she wondered dreamily.

She wasn't feeling tired, but she decided to take a nap. She figured Draven would be back by the time she woke up. "Heck," she thought, "he'll probably be the one to take me up." She locked the door, closed all the curtains in the house, and went and lied down in her bed. Although she wasn't tired, she was asleep within minutes.

_"…Erin…"_

Erin awoke with a start. She looked around the room. "Just a dream, I guess," she said to herself. She peeked out the window, and saw that night had fallen. She yawned and rose out of bed, making it up and walking into the living room. She seemed to be alone still.

"Huh, where is he?" she wondered. "He never stays out past sundown. Draaaavennn. Draven?" she began calling out for him. She received no answer.

She sat on the couch and pondered the reasons he'd still be gone. After several minutes of no conclusion and no return, she began pacing the floor, worrying a bit.

After some more thought, she finally decided she would search for him. "I'm not supposed to leave the house… but if I can get to him, it'll be ok, right?" she asked herself. "Worst case scenario, he'll just scold me again for leaving." With that, she set out for town.

Erin visited all the places he took her when they were searching for her new wardrobe. She visited Monty's store first.

"Monty, have you seen Draven anywhere? He hasn't come back yet," she said to him.

"Gosh darling, no I haven't," he replied, "I've been out shopping and I didn't happen to see one bit of him. Something wrong?"

Erin shook her head, "No, but thanks anyway." She waved good-bye and left.

Her next stop was the blacksmith's.

"Excuse me Mike, but has Draven been here at all today?" she asked.

The rugged blacksmith approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Not since the two of you came here a couple weeks ago. Why?"

Erin shook her head again, "Nothing, thanks." She departed for Heather's tattoo store.

On the door was a sign that read, "Closed for the night. Come back tomorrow!"

"Damn it," Erin thought. "Is there no one I can talk to?" She began wandering aimlessly around town.

"Why don't you try the arena," a voice whispered from behind her.

Erin's heart skipped a beat. She turned around to see a hunched over figure hidden in a torn, black cloak.

"Who are you?" she asked the being.

"You can just call me… Skeletal Arm. You're pleased to meet me," it replied, extending what was indeed a skeletal arm.

Erin was creeped out and stepped back a bit. "I'll pass. Did you say the arena?"

Skeletal Arm replied, "That's what I said. Are you going or not?"

She nodded her head furiously. "Yeah I'm going!" She darted off towards the arena.

"Hum, mortals aren't as polite as they used to be," Skeletal Arm said to himself, disappearing into the darkness.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Erin thought to herself while running. "Why didn't I think of it before? If he's anywhere, he's there."

As she approached her destination, she noticed the exit gate was wide open. She thought nothing of it and stopped right outside of it to catch her breath. When she looked up, she saw several torches lit around the inside of the stadium. They were always there, but they were never lit. What truly caught her attention, however, were the people standing around in the center.

"Huh?" Erin thought, "Who are they? I didn't know people stayed so late…" She entered and approached the group. They all seemed to be hovering around something. Erin tried to see what it was.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She almost stopped breathing. There, lying in the middle of the mob, was a beaten, bloody Draven. He didn't seem to be moving at all.

One of the thugs turned around. "Hey… boss! I think it's the broad from before!"

The overseer of the gang looked at Erin. "Well, if it isn't the princess. Come to see your prince charming's Not-So-Happy ending?" he laughed morbidly. His underlings exchanged jokes about Erin's attempt at mirroring Draven's style, continuing to mercilessly beat Draven, even in his pitiful state.

Erin fell to her knees. "No… No, no, no, no…" she whispered. She held her head, trying to eliminate the image of Draven's body from her mind. "Stop…"

"What's that? More? You got it!" The men kicked and beat Draven more brutally.

"Stop… stop it…" Erin pleaded through her clenched teeth. Tears began streaming down her face. The men ignored her pleas and continued their attacks.

"Stop… stop… STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!"


	14. Awakened, Admitted, Awkward

A screech wailed from Erin's throat. Holes were ripped in her shirt as two wings as white as snow burst from her back. She did not halt her screech as though she could not.

The men all fell onto the ground with loud "thuds." Screaming in pain, they clasped their hands over their ears in attempt to muffle the agonizing sound coming from the saddened girl. Their attempts were in vain; blood poured from their ears and they all became silent and static. It was then Erin was able to cease the noise.

Erin opened her eyes. Instantly noticing the incapacitated men, she got up and rushed to Draven. She knelt next to him and leaned in closely. Long, exaggerated breaths escaped his mouth.

"Yes… yes, please," Erin thought. She took little notice to the wings that had grown from her back, but by the time she was at Draven's side, they had retracted.

"I can do this," she said to herself, wiping her tears away, "I can do this." She held the edges of Draven's chest plate tightly, and began dragging him out of the stadium and towards home. She figured if anyone tried stopping her she would just scream at them.

When they reached the house, Erin's arms were exhausted. She made frequent stops to give them a rest, but the exhaustion was inevitable.

"Final stretch," she breathed, dragging Draven inside. She locked the door and pulled him to his room. When they were inside, she carefully began removing his armor pieces. When everything metallic was off, she tiredly set him up in his bed.

For what seemed like hours, she knelt beside the bed, grasping his hand and watching him sleep. His body was bruised and bleeding, but not so much that it looked like he was in need of serious medical attention.

"Draven…" she mumbled. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could have been there sooner." He shifted around, but remained unconscious.

Erin swallowed the lump in her dry throat. "Even if you can't hear me, for what it's worth…" Her head rested on their clasped hands on the edge of the bed. "You're the most important thing in the world to me. I loved watching you before we met. I love how you just took me in with no warning at all. I love your smile and sense of humor." She hesitated for a moment. "…I even love how you make me stay at home. As long as I know you're coming back, I'll stay as long as you want me to. I love your personality, and your style, and your…" She gulped again. "…you. I love… you." She closed her eyes and there was a long silence.

"…Is that right?"

Erin jumped at the sound. She looked up. Draven's eyes were barely open and staring at her.

"Draven, I…" she started.

Draven steadily shifted his body down so he was at eye level with Erin. He held her chin up and leaned in close, gently pressing his lips against hers. Her eyes widened and her face lit up, but she soon gave in to her emotions and allowed their kiss to proceed.

Draven moved away and held his hand on Erin's cheek. "It's about time. I was starting to think you'd never man up," he said to her with a soft smile.

Erin was confused and embarrassed. "Huh? You mean you knew I…"

"It doesn't take a Piltover rocket scientist, you know," he interrupted her. She became more embarrassed as to how obvious her feelings were to him.

"But, my grandmother always told me the men had to say it first," she retorted.

Draven laughed quietly, "You wanted to be like Draven, right? Looks aren't everything. You need the style, the guts; and it looks like you've got it. C'meer." He moved to the other side of the bed, gesturing Erin to lie next to him. She quickly complied. He held her close to him, and all she could do was hold one hand on his chest. They never once were this close to each other in past nights. Erin could feel sleep creeping up on her already.

She was almost asleep until Draven spoke again. "Hey, what happened to those cheap bastards anyway?"

Erin was unsure. "I uh… I don't know. I guess they're dead or something. If they're not dead, they're definitely deaf…"

Draven chuckled. "I don't know what happened but you better fill me in on the details tomorrow, get it?"

Erin smiled. "Got it."

"Good."

The next day at work, Draven had an interesting time explaining why a pile of dead bodies littered the arena…


End file.
